Kissed by an Angel
by s0merholic
Summary: At the hands of a lunatic taxi driver, Elena Gilbert is sure she is going to die. That is until an angel dressed in black turns up to rescue her - then disappears. Haunted by the memories of that night, Elena knows there is only one man who can help her. The problem is she doesn't know where he is or how to find him. All she knows is his name - Damon.
1. Chapter 1

**Sometimes when I'm supposed to be studying, I get ideas for stories. This is one of them. Let me know what you think. **

It wouldn't make sense to describe the evening as an "average night" because when something like this happens, every night suddenly becomes an "average night". But anyway, for lack of a better word, the night the incident happened was a pretty normal _Joe Blogg's _night.

I had just finished work – an apprenticeship at a Doctor's surgery – and was just waiting on the taxi I'd hailed to pull over so I could go to Matt's house. Today had been long to say the least; I'd worked eleven hours which seemed miniscule compared to the previous four days which had seen me going from a day shift onto a backshift; 16 hours. I'd spent more time in my work than I had in my own goddamn house. But now, my struggle was over and I had the next few days to relax, put my feet up and binge watch _Gossip Girl _on Netflix. It was Tuesday and thus, pizza night. I'd already texted Matty to tell him to order me the usual and I prayed it would be there waiting for me the moment I stepped through the door. I'd also begged him to run me a bubble bath.

"Where to?" the taxi driver called out his window and I realised I'd been daydreaming about Domino's pizza and _Soap & Glory _body wash whilst my taxi had pulled up beside me. The driver, a podgy mousy sort of man with a questionable moustache, was in a red Citroen 5 – not your average black _Town Cabs _but I was exhausted and in no mood to question him during rush hour.

"Spence Street in Maryhill, thanks." I answered slamming the door behind me.

We drove in amicable silence for the next ten minutes, me scrolling through Facebook and him, humming along to a song I didn't recognise on the radio. It was only when Matt called me to see how long I'd be when I realised he'd missed the cut off.

"Hey, mr!" I waved my hand to get the driver's attention. He ignored me as if I hadn't said a word, the only motion he made was to turn up the radio. Matt spoke incessantly in my ear; I hung up so I could hear properly. "hey, sir, the turn off is back there!" I yelled over the noise.

"I'm going a shortcut." He spoke briefly, turning into an unfamiliar neighbourhood, the radio blaring Lady GaGa's _Video Phone_.

A shortcut? What taxi driver ever went a shortcut, if anything they went the longest way possible to get their fares up. "Well how long will we be?" I gulped as we delved further into the estate; the smell of dog urine spilled in from the slight opening in the window, a few shops here and there had boarded up windows covered in graffiti and each house, identical in their greyness and lack of grooming. But none of that was what worried me; what worried me was how deserted the street was. We drove for a solid five minutes and I didn't even see a mouse. The area seemed to be bereft of any living organism. That's when I dialled Matt.

"Thanks for hanging up on me," he spoke so loud he might as well have been on speakerphone. "Where the hell are you anyway? Pizza's getting cold."

"Matt," I spoke in a nonchalant tone, hoping not to attract suspicion from the clearly troubled taxi driver. "I just called to let you know where I am. Where am I, taxi driver?"

"St George's Cross." He answered, meeting my tone.

Liar. I used to live in St George's Cross and this certainly wasn't it. At this point I realised nonchalance wouldn't get me anywhere. "Matt, I don't know where I'm going but please help me. I'm in a council estate, right after the turn off for your estate, we drove for about ten minutes, phone the police, please phone-" At this point the taxi (was he even a taxi?) driver had slammed on the breaks and had threw open the door. I tried to make a break for it out the other door but it was jammed; later, I realised this hadn't been an impulsive decision on his part, he'd been planning this. Snatching my phone out of my hands, he threw it on the ground, grinning at its satisfying _crack _as it landed on the concrete. Then he turned back to me.

I felt like I was in a nightmare; I tried to scream but no sound came out. I managed to kick him in his groin, paralysing him enough to make my escape. He fell out the open door, landing next to my smashed phone and I acted impulsively, allowing the adrenaline to take over. Taking off towards a row filled with houses, I screamed my lungs out in an attempt to attract someone's attention. He was behind me in a flash, grabbing me by the hair and forcing me onto the ground, one hand covering my mouth and the other still attached to my hair. I could see his eyes dart frantically, checking to see if I'd attracted any attention, whilst I thrashed violently under him trying to escape his grip. He started using my hair as a weapon, yanking it around so as to slam my head against the concrete. I could feel a warm pulsing at the top of my head but I didn't register until later that the sensation was actually the blood spilling out of my wound.

It could have been two minutes or two hours but at some point, I registered an image coming towards me. As the pain got worse, the figure got closer. Dressed in all black he still managed to look like an angel. Maybe he was. Maybe he was _my _angel, sent by God to help me on my journey to the sky. My body filled with a fuzziness; this angel, this saviour, would stop the pain.

The weight pressing me to the ground disappeared but I was still sinking deeper into the ground, falling down into its core. My vision was spotty and blurring with every attempt I made to follow the angel's actions. He was still there but he wasn't moving towards me anymore, he was throwing the driver around like a rag doll. Maybe he was a fallen angel; the angel God sent to do his dirty business. I could hear the scream of the driver as something crunched in his leg but it felt like a million miles away; I was drifting, and fast. The driver's yells had stopped when the angel appeared in front of me again; the blueness of his eyes making it both easy to focus and easy to get lost in. I felt myself sink further into my own subconscious.

"Hello, hello?" The angel was taking. He had a beautiful voice, exactly what you'd expect one to sound like. "What's your name? Hello, stay with me? What's your name? Tell me your name." I don't know how long he repeated these words but it started to sound like soothing, like a nursery rhyme; repetitive and easy to get lost in. I giggled – inwardly or outwardly – I wasn't sure anymore. My mind was doing that thing I would have begged a patient at the hospital to avoid. It was trying to make me go to sleep and contrary to what I told the patients, it _was _harder than I thought to stay awake. Just in line with my vision I could see the angel; it pained me when his eyes started to form with tears, could he not see all I needed was a catnap and I'd be fine after that? I tried to tell him this but I was tired, far too tired.

"Please don't die." He murmured, his tear drops dripping onto my forehead.

"I won't, angel," I murmured, trying my best to open my eyes, to get a better vision of my saviour. "not if you don't want me too."

I could see the relief flood his face at the sound of my voice. "Angel, huh?" his eyes glistened through the tears. "I much prefer that to Damon."

I don't know how long he held me in his arms but at one point, I assumed he must have phoned an ambulance. The sound of sirens seemed to revive both of us from our dream-like state. "You'll be ok, beautiful. Just hang in there" He murmured and I could vaguely register the coldness of the concrete against my back. The last thing I remember was the warmth of his lips as they touched my forehead and then I was completely submerged in a pit of blackness.

**Thoughts? I didn't proof read because, as I said, I'm supposed to be studying but I hope you enjoyed at least the premise of it. I have a general idea of where I'll head with this but we'll see how it turns out. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hmm. I'm not really sure where this story is going but I'm happy to see where it takes me.**

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><p>The room I woke up in was strangely familiar to one of the patient's in the hospital; white walls, white floors… a drip. Memories of that night came flooding back all at once, so fast I found it hard to separate the real from the fictional. A taxi driver tried to murder me. Real: why else would I be in a hospital bed? My head was bashed off concrete until I blacked out. Real: that would explain my splitting headache. What I found most difficult to confirm the truth of was the image of a stranger saving my life; I remember reading this fact that said you can't invent a new face and this man was certainly not someone I had ever seen before. That raven black hair, those piercing blue eyes, that voice so smooth like velvet; I didn't know who he was, a stranger passing by or a guardian angel but I <em>knew <em>he had to be real; I could still feel his kiss lingering on my skin.

As I lay there, allowing myself to soak up the last memories of my saviour, one thought ran through my head: these were not the kind of things I should be thinking about when my current boyfriend was lying face down asleep at the side of my bed where he'd no doubt been since he'd received a phone call to say I'd been found half-dead on the street and was now in a coma.

"Matty." I murmured, gently shaking him awake. We'd known each other since high school and started dating the day after graduation. Our relationship was good, really good actually. He made me laugh, he knew exactly how to make me feel better and my mum loved him to pieces. I didn't realise that at this young an age I'd have met someone I want to spend the rest of my life with but Matt is that guy. Or was, until the incident. Now I began questioning if my attraction to a stranger I wasn't even sure was real would affect what I initially thought was a future set in stone.  
>"Elena," Matt murmured. I suddenly felt bad for waking him, my vision was getting fuzzy again and I knew the drugs were about to kick in and I'd be KO'd any minute. "thank god you're ok."<br>One flaw Matty had was his constant taking of the Lord's name in vain. He knew I hated it.  
>"Sorry," he immediately corrected, probably seeing the expression on my face. "I meant thank goodness."<br>"Thank you." I murmured. And then the darkness took me again.

* * *

><p>When I awoke later, it was much darker this time and a nurse was shadowing over me adjusting my drip. She was an older lady, dark eyes and hair, I hadn't ever saw her during my time in the hospital.<p>

"Evening, hun." She smiled, clearly no recollection that I'd been working here for nearly six months. "How are you feeling?"  
>"Sore." I admitted. "How long have I been out?"<br>"You've been drifting in and out of consciousness for about 4 days." She frowned, studying me. "Usually the first thing people ask when waking up from a coma is what happened."  
>"I know what happened," I shuddered as the memory of concrete connecting with my skull flashed through my head. "I remember waking up and my boyfriend was here, do you know where he is?"<br>"Yes, he mentioned you spoke to him briefly," she soothed. "that was two days ago. He's not here right now though, he's at a press conference, first time he's left the hospital since he arrived, you've got a real keeper there."  
>I smiled, feeling a sense of fuzziness overwhelm me. "A press conference?"<br>"Yes. The man who… hurt you, he was a wanted convict. He wasn't a real taxi driver either though I'm sure you've figured that out. He was up on trial for the rape of three women but he skipped bail a few months ago, been wanted ever since."  
>"Where is he now?"<br>"In jail. You managed to knock him out before he could rape you, thankfully. You're a hero, Elena."  
>What? Me, a hero? All I did was kick him. It was him, the Angel. Damon. He saved me, he was the real hero and he deserved the recognition.<br>"No I didn't," I protested to the nurse. "there was man there too, Damon, he saved me and he beat up the driver-convict man."  
>The nurse met my eyes with a steady gaze, I could see pity in her eyes. "There was no one called Damon when the ambulance arrived, love. There was no one there, actually. Just you and… him."<br>"No, there _was _a man there, I swear."  
>The nurse just shrugged it off as if I was a little kid trying to convince myself that Santa Clause <em>was <em>real and everyone else was just lying. "Must have had a guardian angel watching over you."

* * *

><p>When Matt arrived at my bedside an hour later I felt a sense of happiness and disappointment; as pleased as I was that he was here, I had been dreaming about my secret saviour and wishing he would walk through the door. I knew it would have to stop. As real as he felt to me, at the end of the day he could have simply been a mirage, conjured up by my imagination to make everything less painful. That's what I kept telling myself anyway; despite the fact that I could still feel his kiss, the sensation of his body so close to mine, I had to work hard to push that to the back of my thoughts. Since I spoke to the nurse, I'd been having difficult falling asleep – I suppose being in a coma for four days may do that to you. When Matt finally arrived, it was a selfish relief; I didn't care that it was him, I just wanted someone to talk to.<p>

"Have you spoke to my parents?" I asked Matt, trying to lift my head to sit up. He frowned at this and urged me to lay back down. I did, grudgingly; I hated feeling so weak.  
>"Yeah. They were going to jump into the car and drive up the moment I phoned but I knew you wouldn't want that so I told them to sit tight and you'd call them when you woke up."<br>Reason 1 of 100000 why I loved Matt. He understood my feelings towards my parents. It wasn't that I disliked them or anything; I loved them, they were great people. But they were so overbearing. They were pushers; they pushed me to play piano since I was 6, they pushed me at school and finally, they pushed me to study medicine. I knew, deep down, they had my best interests at heart and because of them I was now 22 years old and on my final year at university which consisted of a full-time placement at a hospital but, sometimes it was too much. It was because of their overbearingness that I choose to move from my home in Manchester to Glasgow to study instead of staying closer to home (well that and because Matt had chosen to come here also). I knew if they had come up here to see me, they'd get too involved in my recovery and the outcome of what happened with my attacker and that was something I simply couldn't be bothered with.  
>"Thanks, Matty." I smiled.<br>"Anytime."

* * *

><p>The doctor's decided to keep me in hospital one more night for observation but agreed, if everything went well, I could be discharged in the morning although they did insist I contact my university and explain the situation. As one of the doctors who was treating me was also my assistant boss, he vouched that I was in no condition to work and should be given at least three weeks recovery that I would make up for during the summer months just before graduation. I was bummed to say the least; this would mean I'd be giving up three weeks of my final summer as a free woman before I entered the "big, bad world" to work. I had so many ambitions for that summer; I was going to travel: Matt and I had planned an American road trip. It was supposed to be an unforgettable three months – and now it was all ruined because of some stupid fake taxi driver.<br>"Hey, it's ok." Matt soothed my outrage. "Maybe your placement will be the first three weeks of summer then we can still have a two-month road trip. That might even be better – goodness knows how I'd had survived with you for three solid months, maybe two is enough." He was trying to lighten the mood and I pretended to him it worked because I knew how happy it made him when I laughed at his jokes.

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><p>When I woke up at 4.37 in the morning, I let out a scream at the male figure looming over me, his eyes piercing into mines.<br>"Shh, shh, shh." He murmured. I instantly shut up, I recognised that voice.  
>"Damon?"<p>

**Please leave your thoughts and comments. **


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